Childish Feud
by daisherz365
Summary: "I want to tell you a story." All great feuds start somewhere. This just happened to be one of the bigger ones. Molly Hooper merely becomes one of those lucky one who gets to hear it. Sherlolly with Mycroft. Prompt Fill.


**CHILDISH FEUD by daisherz365 (sincerelydayyy on tumblr also)**

**Lono asked: **

_I love the Holmes brothers so much. Um, prompt: I would love to see something that explores where their relationship soured (at least on Sherlock's end). Plus points if it's in the Morgue and had has a bit of of a Sherlolly hint. :D_

…

Molly Hooper had grown inquisitive when it came to the way the Holmes brothers in general were. She had only ever seen them together a few times over the course of her knowing Sherlock Holmes but that was fine. Mycroft Holmes was a busy man. He held a minor government position from what she knew and while anyone else would probably be unnerved that someone from the government who had connections and such would want to talk to them, Molly simply slid into the black vehicle and looked out the window as she was practically whisked away from the back entrance of Saint Bartholomew Hospital.

She had gotten used to the idea of never getting answers as to any of the burning questions when it came to trying to pull them out of Sherlock Holmes. She had tried a total of five times totally and then given up, realizing that it was almost a lost cause to try to dig into the life of a man who had out of habit decided to guard what was really important to him. She would down right deny if anyone proposed that she was one of those important things (or people).

Ever since his return from the dead she found herself in the company of the tall and sometimes brooding detective whether she was at home or not. Molly didn't mind really. It merely gave her a bit more reassurance that he was trying to be around her in capacities that didn't involve several numbers of corpses in the morgue. With only an exception to the few times he asked her (first time commanded) that she come along with him to a crime scene when John wasn't available.

Now that she found herself sitting under an awning before one of Britain's best and most powerful men she did find herself a bit befuddle by that. The last time she had seen him was when he had come for his brother not even forty eight hours after the initial fall. He had said very little to her as Sherlock took the small bag Molly had shoved in his hands with a first aid kit in it and other necessities like another coat as he had to leave that behind before he left. Molly chose not to tell him 'goodbye' as it wasn't as if he would gone forever, besides she thought it would be best that that not happen when in the company of his older brother. Not that she planned to do much in the farewell.

The sooner they had left her flat, the better.

Now, she slipped her hands around the warmness of the cup that held her tea that had been poured by her host and placed in front of her before he sat with as much as grace as was to be expect. She brought the cup to her lip and took a small sip, testing it before taking a few more as she looked around at the space. It was very open.

"Miss -." Mycroft stopped as if remembering that he made an error, almost buffering as he folded his hands on the table and continuing, "Doctor Hooper, I am sure you are curious as to why I called you here when you have a shift to be attending to. However, you are dressed strangely for a day at work." He gave her a once over, his eyes a bit less critical than his younger brother but still very concentrated on what he was trying to discover from Molly's person. She didn't still or stiffen during the process. She would wait and see if he was going to downright be cruel as she had heard he could be and then assess whether she'd like to stay. He was right however, she was curious as to why she was sitting before him. She didn't work just because she liked cutting up cadavers or the odd analysis she had to do to finish paperwork – she needed the funds to continue occupying her small flat and live comfortably enough.

"I assume you have an outing of some sort to attend then, a date possibly. You haven't been on one of those in a couple months. The only thing outside of the mortuary or your flat has been accompany my brother to places or stopping by a shop or two when required. It does bring me back to the reason why I requested your attendance. You've been helpful to my brother when he required it and not." Molly nodded her head as she placed her cup back down and folded her hands into her lap.

"I have been aware for quite some time that despite my brother's knowledge of your developing interest in him in the more sentimental way, you have gained a bit of an inquisitive nature when it comes to our relationship as family and brothers." It wasn't a question, Molly nodded. Her fingers twisting in her lip as she realized that her questions might have been a bit too much. Perhaps Sherlock had asked his brother for help in the matter seeing as he wasn't great with letting people down easily. Not that he hadn't told her blatantly that it was no of her business and she should stop asking. It did confuse her as to why Mycroft should care.

John Watson had told her stories about the way Mycroft went about getting the attention of anyone who was connected to his brother. She assumed this was his way of doing that. He told her he did it out of concern and Molly believed that was true, when in relation to Sherlock Holmes you have a right to worry if something or someone is out to hurt him. However, Molly Hooper had never wished any harm come to him. She may have despised him for a day or two after a pretty harmful deduction on his part towards her but she never could truly hate him enough that she would want harm to come to him. She wasn't like the others. She understood him a bit more than that.

"I'm not sure how it concerns you, me questioning Sherlock. If that was out of line, I'm sorry." Molly started and backtracked all of at the same time. He could do things to her, things that could potentially damage the life she had for herself and she would hate for that to happen because of a slip on her part. She just needed him to understand that she wasn't afraid of him. She wasn't, really. She wasn't even afraid of Sherlock Holmes who had done far worse to her psyche in the past nine years than the childhood of being bullied and picked on for having interests in the dead and wildlife. "What I mean is if Sherlock doesn't want to talk about it then I don't see how it interests you. You don't know much about me besides what I assume is in my file. There isn't too much there."

"On the contrary Molly, I know much more about you than you realize. I don't think my brother would appreciate if I broke his pathologist so I am going to refrain from speaking ill of you though there really isn't anything troubling or negative in regards to you. Your feelings for my brother may have been a bit of a distraction to your work ethic I would say, and his."

"Sherlock doesn't care for me in that way." Molly giggled. It was funny for her to hear the way he tried to bring up her feelings in regard to the handsome detective. Neither of them were comfortable with discussing matters of the heart. Sherlock, most definitely not.

Mycroft just smiled, it was the same smile he gave her during the Irene Adler death incident in the morgue. It was that secretive smile that gave Molly chills. He knew something that he felt she didn't need to hear about. It made her question herself every time he did.

"Well, if that's all I think I'd like to leave." Molly said though she hadn't stood up from her chair. She had tensed in her position, her back ramrod straight and her eyes a bit misty.

"My apologies, I believe I've hit a bit of a nerve. That was not my intention. I'd like to tell you a little story if you're willing to stay. There is cake and biscuits inside if you'd like to join me there. It's getting to be a bit overwhelming outside." Mycroft told her, carefully watching her as he stood and retreated inside.

Molly sat there for a few minutes, wiping at her faces in hopes that she hadn't actually started crying. She hadn't luckily. He was just being a bit too honest. Not like she hadn't experienced that before. This man didn't know her as well as he thought he did. Molly Hooper could take a few punches or verbal attacks and be okay the next morning. However, did that mean that she would enjoy another minute of that – no.

There was a part of her that was still wondering what all of this was for. It was about Sherlock, yes but what else. Mycroft had told her he wanted to tell her a story. What story and why? Her head was full of questions, each one leading to another but no true answers. This could possibly give her some leeway into knowing several things. The one true answer that she needed to answer right now was: was it worth it to spend another second in the presence of a man who could chop her down one second and hold his tongue the next then offer her dessert and a tale of an area she knew very little about.

It had become obvious from the start it had to be about Sherlock. Nothing else mattered to the both of them that much than the man himself.

The sound of her phone pinged as she stood up. She reached into her bag to retrieve it as she walked towards the open glass door. She thought about just ignoring it but odds are whatever was in the message was ten times as better than what she was about to walk into willingly.

**ONE NEW SMS**

**(View Message: Y/N? **_**Yes.)**_

**FROM: SHERLOCK HOLMES**

**Are you harmed in any way? – SH**

Molly smiled at the message as she slid through the door and shut it behind her. Mycroft's voice filtered through her odd sense of glee at the message from Sherlock. "Tell my brother, hello."

Molly looked over to the chair where Mycroft was sitting. She sat across from him in the only available seat, the sofa. She placed her bag at her feet as she replied.

_**I am okay. Mycroft says hi. – Molly **_

She placed her phone besides her and looked back up at the government official. "You have a story for me." She said quietly.

As Mycroft nodded and opened his mouth to begin the recollection of times gone by, Molly seemed to remember that she had something else to say. She blurted out, "Wait! Before you begin I would like to ask you something. Why me? Why would you bring me here to tell me personal things about your family as I am sure you're about to? Why not John Watson?"

"John hasn't asked and as far as I am aware he's not very forgiving towards me for my part in what was the fall of Sherlock Holmes. John Watson isn't the one who seems to have caught the attention of my brother, recently."

Molly just stared at him blankly, she really didn't need to discuss the fact that she practically was joined at his hip most days for reasons she was trying to figure out. Before all of this, she probably would have had to find some way to gain the attention of the oblivious detective. He saw things but at the same time he didn't. It had been a weird couple weeks of experiences she probably would have to keep with her until he decided that he was Bored. Because he would get bored. Molly wasn't all that exciting. He really needed a good case, she was positive of that.

She did enjoy his company most of the time. There was no mistake about that. He was quite the entertainer despite the moments when she was just trying to do the most menial of tasks.

"You've been asking questions. Odds are that my brother won't give you the answer to. In fact as far as I know, and no he hasn't brought it to my attention as you thought he had. I believe the fact that he messaged you to see if you were alright says more about this situation than anything else, don't you? There are things about my brother and I that one will only ever understand unless they a) were there/lived it or b) get answers. It's rather simple. What occurred has not and it seems that Sherlock hasn't gotten over it and since honesty seems to be the game to play today, neither have I. Sherlock created a bit of a domestic in our own family and it has never been settled. It merely ignited the sibling rivalry that had slowly begun to come into effect."

"He was deducing." Molly said. Her eyes looked a bit glazed over as if she was in a far off land. Perhaps she was thinking of something. "His deductions do get him in a bit of a tizzy, most days."

"Quite so. I had come home from uni for a holiday – Christmas as were it for a weekend really. I suppose I could have come for an entire week or two but I'd much rather attend to a few matters away from home. This was before MI6 or anything government related came about for me. I had offers, anyway Sherlock was fourteen and getting into trouble as usual. He had been caught earlier on in the week smoking from our father's pipe in his office and then as were it to spite me for coming home or leaving. I'm still not sure which as we had a bit of row after the incident."

Molly hummed, listening as her phone pinged again. She ignored it. It was clear she was more interested in this story. "Sherlock had always been so observant about anyone. It wasn't just the family, though it had to start somewhere. He deduced as you said that our mother was having relations other than with my father. That started a bit of a domestic for everyone.

In all truth it wouldn't have been too bad if my brother hadn't gotten as far as to name the man who supposedly was Mummy's accomplice in all of this. There was a look shared between Mummy and Dad and then he completely stormed out. He didn't say anything he just shot her a look to confirm it. That's the way most things were done in our family. While most masks are always up there is always a moment when something goes wrong that everything goes downhill. Mummy cried days.

I, talked to Sherlock immediately after he let it be known that our family wasn't as sacred as it was known. He didn't have any guilt or regrets towards what he said. He said it was the truth and that the truth had to be known or things would continue to be a farce. I believe his irritation started when he was much younger but that has nothing to do with the incident where he hurt the family. Not in the slightest. He's always held a bit of a grudge towards me because as siblings who are of different age it is true that favorites are made. He has always believed that I have been the favorite at least for our mother.

Our father held indifference when it came to those matters. In fact we rarely discuss him. Mummy is the one who matters. Though she wasn't always there I think that's another thing that aggravates him not only about me always lurking around checking up on him to make sure isn't into troubling areas. I was his parental figure for most of his upbringing. He didn't always have a sarcastic tongue when it came to anything that deals with us or our legacy. That's what it's all about really. The Holmes family has always had a legacy of a very posh upbringing and even greater heights for their potential in life – careers included.

Sherlock started a bit of a troubling life after the incident with our parents. You may have inferred this as he always has to have something to keep his attention or he'll get bored. Sometimes he would travel down to the more dingy parts of the town and get a bit of something to help alleviate his need to have something to do. He got high and it became a bit of a pattern for months. It begun to interfere with things he needed to be focusing on like school. It got gradually worse as he entered uni.

I caught him doing it a couple times and that's when he started to find places that he thought no one knew about and do it there."

"You found him, of course." Molly said.

"Yes. He was probably close to dying that time and he had left his phone behind. He usually took it despite the lack of contacts in. I rushed him to the closest private facility that I could find and stayed with him once he was out of danger. I held his hand even though he probably doesn't remember that. I'm always there because I'm all he really has of family. Mummy hasn't ever really forgiven Sherlock for what he did but she still loves him. She still asks about him. I send her clippings for his 'achievements' in the news. Except the last one. She had found out and went inside of herself again like she did upon the ending of her marriage to my father and his death many years later. He still visits her sometimes when he feels he needs to. He may be thinking about going to visit her soon. He needs to. I'm always there just in case he decides to repeat the cycle again. That's the bulk of our tale."

"No, it's not." The baritone of the only consulting detective filtered through the silence that was there for a mere fifteen seconds. He was standing near the couch were Molly was seated with her hands folded in her lap. She reached for her phone and started fiddling with it as he continuing talking. "You really should answer your texts, Molly." He turned away from her to address his brother was again. He walked a few steps over and sat near but not near to the blushing pathologist.

"I think you left a few things out, Mycroft. Your diet for one and the many wars you've started just because you could. However, you were correct I am planning to visit Mummy in a few days. How is Anthea, by the way? I haven't seen her in some time."

"She's fine, Sherlock."

Molly looked up gaze shifting from both brothers. Gazes still so intense yet playful – on Mycroft part. Sherlock looks like he'd much rather end up shooting a wall or running away from this room. Molly thinks she wouldn't mind the latter too much. Mycroft still made her feel uncomfortable. It was nice of him to tell her the things that Sherlock wouldn't but he still had pointed out one of her biggest flaws.

As quickly as the exchange had happened Sherlock was reaching over for Molly's wrist and pulling her up to full height. "Well, this was…fun but we really much be off. Dinner with an old friend of mines."

"Are you taking Doctor Hooper along?" Mycroft asked him as Molly bent down to retrieve her bag. She squeaked and covered her mouth as Sherlock's hand tightened around her wrist. Was he trying to crush her wrist? She looked up at him and saw him looking at her with a bit of a question gaze.

"Stay away from the cake, Mycroft." Sherlock said as he turned with Molly trailing behind him doing her best not to trip as she kept up with his long strides. "Sherlock." She called pulling her hand back once they were outside.

"Molly." He stated quietly. His eyes were roaming, checking for anything that could possibly be wrong. "Did you drink anything?"

Molly giggled and shook her head at him. He was truly mad. "I doubt your brother would go so far to poison someone who came to his home willingly."

"You don't know my brother."

"I do know what the Holmes are like. You're all nearly the same." Molly supplied as Sherlock circled around her. She rolled her eyes at him as he picked up a piece of the floral dress that she was wearing. "Date?" He asked.

"No, Sherlock." She answered, tiredly. "Can't I just wear a dress every once in a while? I'm not wearing heels or lipstick, you see." She twirled around to face him as he was standing behind her inspecting her still.

"Yes…" He trailed. "Though the lipstick would have been an improvement."

Molly took no offense to that. He told her that at least twice out of the week. That was why she pulled the tube and compact out of her bag and applied it quickly. "There. Happy?" He gave her one jerky nod. "What were you saying about dinner? I might have plans."

"C—with whom?" His jaw was clenched.

Molly stared at him. "I didn't say I had them. _Might_, Sherlock. Why does it matter anyway? You never answered your brother's question."

"Yes. Well." He stated as he reached down for her arm again. His fingertips flitting across her wrist for a brief moment before taking her small nimble fingers and interlacing their hands. "I thought it was obvious."

"You being around me while I am out and about doesn't make anything obvious. You hide most things from people. I thought you were bored."

"Maybe a little…" He started before catching that look in her eyes. "I do enjoy your companion, Molly Hooper." He stated as he pulled her towards him. He started at her for a few minutes. Watching her to see what she would do (would she do anything?). He had admitted the one truth he was willing to speak aloud. The others were too jumbled and confusing for him.

Molly smiled and turned from him, hand still in his as she begun to walk away from the house with Sherlock slowly walking beside her. She pretended not to see the swish of the curtain on the top floor. "What was this about dinner?"

"John and Mary want to have dinner."

"Did they ask about me or are you just bringing me along so you won't have to sit with them and watch them be overly intimate?"

Sherlock stayed silent for a few moments causing Molly to stop and give him an incredulous look. Before she could even begin to lecture him about how unbelievable he was he quickly pressed his lips against hers. It wasn't anything special, he just needed her to stop talking for just a moment.

"Good enough answer?" He asked a few moments later when Molly had her hands pressed against his chest.

"Skip dinner." She told him as she slid her hand back into his a few minutes later. She was gnawing at her lip.

"What?"

"Skip. Dinner." She repeated again, she turned her head up so that he would get better clarification. By the look of surprise on his face, he had. The only thing that left his mouth was a breathless, "_Oh_."


End file.
